


Season Finale

by misslou



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1643450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslou/pseuds/misslou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The senior class of Eastside High School is heading into their final year of marching band. The marchers want this to be the best season yet. Though bittersweet, will they come out of it with sweet memories, or will the stress and frustration get the best of them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sun was high on the practice field, causing buckets of sweat to drop off the chins of the band members. The effects of early August were hanging dryly in the air, and clouds were nowhere in sight to protect the kids from the scorching heat. Bags hung under the students’ eyes, despite it being only the second day of band camp, and they constantly wiped the sweat off their foreheads. 

Various letters and numbers were shouted as the section leaders plotted their sections. They all held a binder in one arm, and their instrument in the other, busy yelling out plots and having little patience for section members not paying attention. 

“W 16? I’ve called W 16 three times now!” Lindsay Tuggey, one of the two clarinet section leaders, shouted over the quiet chattering of all the plotted section members. Her face was reddened with sun, and the lack of focus from her section was causing clear distress and frustration. 

A smaller girl parted from the crowd of un-plotted clarinets. Lindsay hardened her glare as the girl stopped where Lindsay was standing. “We don’t have time for this, guys. Pay attention.” she gritted. “Gavin, help me.”

A lanky boy who was flipping through the pages of his binder looked up. He raised his eyebrows, and walked over to the half-plotted line of clarinets. “Sorry!” he said in a distinguishing English accent, smiling and flipping to the correct page. The duo continued plotting, and miraculously wasn’t the last section to still be doing so. 

Back at the corner of the field, the low-winds were busy cracking jokes. Their section leaders were Michael Jones, a vulgar and hotheaded trombone player, and Gus Sorola, a socially awkward but funny tuba player. The sheer connection of all the low-wind players caused them to get along so well, and therefore were usually the first instrument section plotted. Also due to the fact that if any lack of focus occurred, Michael would go on a rampage. 

“Kerry, you’re fucking dumb,” Michael chuckled at the tenor saxophone player, Kerry Shawcross, who had just cracked yet another dick joke.

“You laughed,” Kerry replied, giggling.

Lining up at the front of the field were the ‘high and mighty’ trumpets. Everyone in the band knew the trumpets were the most cocky of the group, and often showed off their musical skills. Ryan Haywood, one of a duo of section leaders, was busy plotting whilst his co-leader, Caleb Denecour, played on his phone. 

Caleb was the more ‘cool’ leader. He joked a lot, and had the face of an 8th grader, despite the fact that he was a senior. He broke his leg playing ultimate Frisbee the previous marching season, which no one has forgotten. The story had been passed around so much that even the freshmen laughed at his humiliation. Ryan was more serious, which caused a happy medium in the trumpet section leadership. 

The percussion were busy practicing their loud cadences due to the fact they had plotted the first few sets at percussion practice over the summer. Everyone knew the percussion players were loud in everything they did. Miles Luna, section leader and snare player, was always there to encourage his section to be loud and proud. Him and Kyle Taylor, longtime friends, worked well with eachother and provided the percussion a strong foundation.

Meanwhile, the flutes struggled with their plots yet again. Arryn Zech and Barbara Dunkleman tried their best to shape the section, but mostly everybody was bad. They knew this, and were often embarrassed as they tried to help simple mistakes. Barbara was busy giving the third lecture about lack of focus that day, and Arryn was trying her best to plot the clueless freshmen.

“I plotted you literally five minutes ago,” Arryn exclaimed to one of the freshmen. “How did you already lose your place?” 

The freshman shrugged, and Arryn mimicked it. “Shrugging isn’t an answer. You guys, _please_ pay attention.” 

Attached to the line of flutes, was the saxophone line. Section leader Jack Pattillo was giving tips and adjusting his recently plotted maneuver. Jack was very intelligent, and served as a single leader for his section. He was very respectable and held a good relationship with the fellow saxes. Jack was someone you could trust with just about anything. 

Up at the pit of the field were the pit percussion. Ray Narvaez Jr., a skinny Puerto Rican senior, was the pit section leader, and made himself out to be the band ‘funny guy’. Ray could pull a joke out of just about anything, and wasn’t usually thought of as the leader type. Making Ray a leader was a huge risk for the band director, but it turned out to be one of his best decisions. Somehow, Ray has shaped up the pit percussion to be one of the best sounding groups in the band. 

Lastly, the color guards were busy twirling their flags near the left side of the group. The color guard class was usually a skilled group of people, and rarely accidentally hit band players with flags. All of them are pretty, even in the midst of sweat and tears, and can hold a smile through a ten minute show. Even though they don’t play an instrument, the color guards are treated the same as the band family. 

“Alright,” the band director, Mr. Carlyle, shouted from the top of an elevated podium that gave him a good visual of the band’s formations. “We ready to run it?” 

There was collected murmurs of agreements from the band members as the section leaders scurried to set their binders down and get in formation. Mr. Carlyle nodded to the one drum major on the conducting podium, Geoff Ramsey, who was a saxophone player and an ROTC member and had already obtained a few tattoos. The second drum major podium was empty due to the fact that Burnie Burns was accessing the formations from ground level. 

“One… two… ready…march,” Geoff counted off, giving the band a pickup beat to head into a slow march. Geoff was still a bit shaky with conducting the rhythm, but was working on it. The band moved an eight count set and seemed to make it there in one piece. 

Mr. Carlyle rubbed his chin. “Not bad, but you have to make sure the diagonals stay.” he tipped, giving the infamous hand motion to redo the set. 

“It’s so fucking hot,” Michael said under his breath, looking up at Gus beside him who was glistening from underneath his sousaphone. 

Gus nodded in agreement, reaching his previous plot and looking back at Michael. “It’s gonna be like this all week,” 

“ _Fuck_ me,” Michael cursed, raising his trombone to his lips and setting it in the position as if he were playing, despite the fact that music wasn’t going to be brought into the routine for a few days. 

The band continued plotting and moving until about 11:30, when Mr. Carlyle dismissed for lunch break. “Be back at 1,” he reminded, beginning to climb down his podium as the band dispersed. 

Michael quickly met up with his group of fellow seniors by the bleachers, grabbing his water bottle and car keys. He put his hand on Gavin’s sweaty shoulders who was taking a swig of warm water and made him spill all over his chin. 

“Where we goin’ today?” Michael asked around as more of the group formed around him. Lindsay looked up from drinking out of her water bottle, and shrugged her shoulders. Jack played an arpeggio from his saxophone. Ryan played the opening of the show. 

“Barbara, Meg, and I are going to Five Guys if you guys want to come along,” Arryn suggested, putting her flute under her arm and taking a drink of water. 

“I’m down,” Lindsay said with a grin. 

“Caiti’s making us lunch,” Jack said. “I’ll be sure to eat with you guys tomorrow.” 

Miles played triplet on his snare and agreed to come, along with Kyle, Ryan, and Caleb. 

“I gotta stay with Geoff and Burnie,” Gus said. “We’re eating here and we gotta clean out the uniform room.” 

“Understandable,” Michael nodded. “So it’s me, Gavin, Lindsay, Barb, Meg, Miles, Ryan, Caleb, and Kyle? Shit, that’s a lot of people.” 

“We’ll take multiple cars,” Gavin suggested, wiping the sweat from his forehead. 

“No shit,” Lindsay added, giggling. “Let’s just get back to the parking lot before we waste our whole lunch sitting and talking about it.” 

The group walked in mass back to the band room to drop off instruments, water bottles, and sweat rags. Goodbyes were exchanged, and the group headed out to the parking lot. Michael and Gavin started toward Lindsay’s car. 

“Who wants to ride with me?” Miles said in a seducing tone. Arryn laughed and grabbed his hand. Barbara and Kyle followed the couple into Miles’ silver Honda. Arryn rode shotgun, and the ‘third and fourth wheels’ piled into the back. 

Meg followed Ryan and Caleb to Caleb’s blue Sedan parked a few parking spaces down from Miles. Lindsay was the first to pull out of the parking space, which made her leader of the line of cars heading to Five Guys. Miles and Caleb followed suit. 

In Lindsay’s car, music was blaring. Michael had turned on some trap music and rolled the windows down to make sure that every surrounding car could listen to his fine selection of tunes. Gavin was in the backseat, adorning Ray-Ban sunglasses on his face. He was busy laughing at the ridiculous faces Michael was making as the music got more and more intense. 

“Michael, you’re a goddamn train wreck,” Lindsay said, quickly glancing over at Michael over-exaggerating car-seat dance moves. 

“You’re just jealous you don’t have rhythm like I do,” Michael retaliated, sticking his tongue out. Lindsay shook her head. 

“I got a text from Kyle,” Gavin announced as Michael turned the music down a bit. “He said turn the fucking music down or he’ll rear-end us.” 

“Fuck him,” Michael said. “Not literally, but rhetorically.” 

“I’ll tell him that you told me to fuck him.” Gavin laughed, sending a text back to the car behind them. 

Once arriving at Five Guys, the musicians piled out of their chosen rides and into the cool air conditioner of the restaurant. Everyone ordered and used up three tables that they connected to one another. It took about ten minutes for the food to cook and be served at the table. 

“So,” Gavin said, eating a fry. “How’s everyone’s sections?”

Arryn and Barbara groaned simultaneously. “Peachy,” Barbara said sarcastically. “Just wonderful.” 

“We’re okay,” Caleb said, exchanging glances with Ryan and shrugging. “This poor freshman can’t march backwards to save his life though.” 

“We’re fucking great!” Michael exclaimed. “The new marchers are hella cool and they almost already got Sonic Boom down!” 

Lindsay rolled her eyes, as she took a bite of her bacon cheeseburger. “Oh great, we’re gonna be hearing that stupid song earlier than usual this year.” 

“Oh hush,” Michael said, grinning. “How’s color guard?” 

Meg nodded, looking up from her food and setting down her drink. “Great! The new ones are not half bad.” 

Meg Turney was one of the color guard leaders, and had always been a stellar performer ever since freshman year. Freshman year had been her first year in Texas, having been originally from Los Angeles, and quickly made friends with a majority of the band members. She plays bass clarinet during concert season.

“Awesome,” Barbara added. 

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows. “Hey,” he said, looking genuinely confused. “We’re missing some of the squad.” 

“I didn’t see Kerry or Ray after he got dismissed,” Michael admitted, taking a swig of mountain dew. 

“I saw Joel and Adam grab their bottles and take off,” Meg piped up. “I guess they had something they needed to do.” 

Kyle shrugged, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Whatever,” he said, lightly. 

There were a few moments of silence before Barbara just stopped chewing and widened her eyes. “Guys,” she said, muffled through a mouthful of food. “Can you believe we’re seniors?” 

“I know right,” Michael replied, his burger dripping grease in his grip. “This is our last band camp.” 

“No!” Gavin exclaimed, frowning. “I don’t want it to end!” 

“None of us do,” Arryn murmured. “I can’t imagine the day where we have our last concert here.” 

“I’m gonna cry like a bitch.” Barbara said, snickering. “I seriously am.” 

“Agreed,” Meg added. 

“Let’s go out with a bang this year, guys,” Miles said, leaning forward and looking around at all the seniors crowded around the table. “Let’s make this season finale the best one yet.”


	2. Chapter 2

Day three and four of band camp was pretty generic. The band managed to get an average amount of sets plotted, and the amount of yelling was minimal. Caiti was feeling good about the color guard routine so far. Their color guard instructor, Demetria Thomas, was very patient with the newcomers, but at the same time, strict enough to limit mindless chattering. She was a young woman, still in college, with a real passion for spinning flags. She struck up a good relationship with the guard. 

During lunch, Caiti went with Griffon and Meg to McDonalds. They decided to have a ‘girls only’ lunch and leave their men to do whatever guys do. Miss Demi liked to call them the “troublesome trio”. 

Upon obtaining their meals, the girls decided to eat at a booth near the window. Caiti slid in next to Griffon, facing Meg. All three of them were still sticky from sweat, and their hair was tied up in some sort of way. Griffon’s tattoos were visible from her sleeveless shirt. 

“Today was pretty good, I think,” Griffon said, grinning, as she squirted mayo on her chicken sandwich. 

Meg nodded, dipping a pair of fries into a cup of ketchup. “Not too bad,” she added, eating the said fries and adjusting her glasses. “Wish it wasn’t so damn hot, though.” 

Caiti agreed, digging her fork around her salad. “I agree all the way,” she said with a chuckle in her charming Australian accent. “At least the wind from the flags provide us a little bit of relief.” 

Griffon laughed, setting down her chicken sandwich and wiping off her fingers with a napkin. “True, true,” she murmured through a mouthful of chicken. 

The girls smiled and paid a little more attention to their food, managing to finish most of it before the conversation started up again. Meg closed her empty hamburger box and took another swig of the cappuccino she had ordered. “So,” she said, grinning, looking over the table as Griffon and Caiti were finishing up. “How’s the guys?” 

Griffon smiled, closing her sandwich box. “Geoff and I are good,” she answered, letting down her ponytail to only put it back into a high bun. “We’re planning to knock out one more trip to Dallas before school starts again.” 

Meg nodded, raising her eyebrows. “Sounds fun,” she agreed, taking another cappuccino swig. “What about Jack?” 

Caiti smiled. “Jack’s great,” she answered with blush reddening her cheeks. “We both are excited for senior year.” 

“What about you, Meg?” Griffon said, a grin plastered on her face. “How’s your lovelife?” 

Meg rolled her eyes, combining all of the trash onto the tray and setting her beverage in front of her. “Pretty nonexistent,” she said with raised eyebrows and a small chuckle. 

Griffon and Caiti exchanged glances. “Really?” Caiti questioned, tilting her head slightly to the right. “Nobody’s caught your interest? Even in band?” 

Meg shook her head. “Nope,” 

Griffon shrugged. “You’ll find somebody this year,” she reassured with the corners of her lips curling upwards in a smile. “You need a good guy for prom.” 

Meg snickered, picking up the tray that held everyone’s trash. “Oh shut up,” she said, turning to walk back to the trash bin and dispose of the garbage. “I’ll have you guys,” she added upon returning. 

Caiti laughed. “You can’t take cute matching prom pictures with us!” she exclaimed. “We’ll find you a guy, okay?” 

“I can find a guy perfectly fine,” Meg defended as she pulled out her phone and replied to a few texts. 

Griffon and Caiti quietly chuckled and pulled out their phones to do the same.

* * *

1:00 rolled around, and the band members began to pull back into the parking lot and return for music practice. Lindsay and Gavin quickly met up, assembled their clarinets, put a reed in their mouth, and hurried to the Art room to begin the clarinet sectional. 

The section leaders were the first ones in the room, which gave them time to assemble chairs and stands. They each looked over the first song in the show and practiced the key parts they would address in the sectional. 

Clarinetists pooled in until about 1:10, when the last one walked through the doorway and was scolded for being ten minutes late. Lindsay sat on top of a desk, and Gavin stood beside her. 

“Alright, so,” Gavin addressed, grabbing his lyre and flipping to the first page. “Get out _Into the Clouds_.” 

Simultaneous lyre-flipping followed the order. Lindsay played a quick tuning note, and began to go down the line in tuning the section. Gavin quietly fingered through the opening section. Tuning took about six minutes, and then Lindsay proceeded to begin work on the first song. 

“Okay, measure three,” she began, taking a glance at the sheet music. “You’ve got a trill. You know those fingerings right?” Lindsay said, proceeding to provide an example with her clarinet. The rest of the section nodded. 

Gavin drifted off. He pulled out his phone and started texting Michael. 

_1:20 PM Gavin: Hey babe (;_

Two rooms away, in the choir room, Michael’s phone vibrated in his back pocket. He quickly retrieved it, and chuckled upon reading Gavin’s jokingly flirtatious text. He let the low-winds practice the opener with Gus as he replied. 

_1:20 PM Michael: Hey dipshit_

Gavin grinned. He and Michael had been best friends since 7th grade, when he first moved to America. He was shy, and quiet, which was the complete opposite of Michael Jones. They first met when Gavin needed a partner for dissecting a frog, and was paired with Michael. They hit it off immediately. 

_1:21 PM Gavin: How’s sectionals?_

“Michael, get off your phone,” Gus said with a smirk. “Be a good example.” 

“Me?” Michael said with a chuff. “A good example? Bitch, please.” 

The low-wind section laughed. The banter between Michael and Gus was entertainment for hours. Gus shrugged it off and went back to helping out the music, whereas Michael continued to text Gavin. 

_1:22 PM Michael: Sucks. We still up for mellow mushroom tonight?_

Gavin had forgotten about the plan with Michael and Ray to go to the Mellow Mushroom after practice. The Mellow Mushroom was a pizza place were all the stoners would go on Friday nights. The trio tended to avoid them, and would go on Thursdays. 

_1:22 PM Gavin: Hell yeah. We going to your place first?_

_1:23 PM Michael: sure. You and Ray don’t drive anyways_

_1:23 PM Gavin: true. We’ll ride with you. See you at mass, homie_

_1:24 PM Michael: don’t call me that, faggot._

Gavin chuckled and set his phone down. He picked up his clarinet and joined the section in playing the beginning trills.

* * *

At 2:00, the sections joined together in the auditorium for mass rehearsal of the music. Arryn and Barbara carried their stands from the second art room, with the other flutes following behind them like baby ducklings. Their cheeks were both stained red from the sun. 

Barbara slid into the first chair position, with Arryn at her right. The other flutes filed in beside them by order of seniority. Mr. Carlyle didn’t hold playing tests, so you sat where ever you placed yourself. Generally, no matter how good you were, the older people were the better chairs. 

Barbara and Arryn were both pretty good flute players. They had both participated in all-district and honor bands, and were the prime example of the section. Mr. Carlyle thought of them as his praised players. Whenever there was a solo, it would be a battle between the two of them for who gets to play it. 

The band shuffled in, filling up all the seats on stage. Lindsay slid into the first clarinet spot, with Gavin beside her, and began to tune herself. The percussion loudly played their football game cadences while Arryn and Miles exchanged funny faces back and forth. Michael, Gus, and the other upperclassmen low-winds blasted sonic boom. Ryan and Caleb tried to overpower them with Crazy Train. 

Mr. Carlyle tapped on his podium, and the loud music ceased. He pointed to Lindsay to provide a tuning note, and the auditorium slowly filled with a tonic B flat. 

Mass rehearsal lasted an hour. The band seemed to understand the concept of the beginning of the song, so shouting was minimal. The new players struggled with the concept of actually playing music, and not just blowing through an instrument. A majority of them were still hung over from a hot day of marching practice. 

“That’s about our time for today,” Mr. Carlyle paused, looking at his watch. “You’re dismissed for today. Remember, 8:00. Some of you struggle with the concept of being on time.”

Michael hurried to dissemble the mouthpiece from his trombone and store it in his instrument case. Everybody was in a frenzy to pack up and go home to take a nap or do whatever. Today was a long day, and one of the hotter Texas summers, which made it even more brutal. 

“What are you doing once you get home?” the second chair trombonist, Adam Ellis, said after stowing his horn. 

“Going out, you know, fucking around.” Michael snickered in response, clicking his case shut and standing. 

Adam nodded and stuffed his music into his trombone case. “Cool, man.” he replied. 

Michael laughed subtly and carried his trombone to a back room branching from the band room that everyone called the “low-wind room”. The walls were decorated with various ‘artworks’ of past low-wind players, and the room was complete with a stereo, mini fridge, and a five-foot tall stuffed polar bear. None of the other band members really came into the low-wind room because of how strange it truly was. 

Michael found Gus and a few other low-wind players chatting inside the room. Gus’ tuba was sitting in an unclosed case. Gus never really closed the case because of the hassle it was to pull a sousaphone back out of it. Michael quickly set his trombone in the cubbies installed on the wall and walked out after saying a quick goodbye to the section members inside. 

Michael noticed Gavin and Ray talking towards the back of the band room. He made his way towards them, careful not to bump into any fellow band members who smelled of dried sweat and grass. 

“Hey assholes,” Michael said upon arriving, putting his arm around both Gavin and Ray. 

“Yo,” Ray greeted in return. 

Michael turned his arms to his sides. “So we goin’ to my house now?” he asked his friends, who’s faces were reddened with sun. 

“Sounds cool,” Ray said with a grin. “We still hittin’ up Mellow Mushroom tonight, right?” 

“Ray please,” Gavin snickered. “It’s a Thursday tradition.” 

Ray nodded his head. “True.” he said, looking back at Michael. “Let’s go then.” 

The trio laughed and started out of the band room and into the parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the wait, i just wanted to finish my other fic first 
> 
> now im hoping to devote my time to this uwu


	3. Chapter 3

“I just don’t understand how ducks have corkscrew dicks.” Ray muttered as he took a drink of his third Mountain Dew of the night. The Mellow Mushroom was pretty empty, save for a few groups of friends scattered around. Ray, Michael, and Gavin all agreed that they liked to enjoy their pizza without being offered marijuana from a high school dropout with a Bob Marley beanie. 

“You don’t have to.” Gavin said, laughing. “Just accept it.” 

Ray shrugged, taking a bite of pizza. “Whatever, dude.” he muffled through the food in his mouth. “It’s fucking weird.” 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Michael said, raising his eyebrows a bit at Ray who had pizza sauce on the corners of his mouth. “Anyways, we’ve only got two weeks left before school starts.” 

Ray swallowed his bite. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna drink a gallon of bleach to celebrate.” 

Gavin laughed, almost spiting up his root beer. “It’s our last-first-day, though.” he pointed out, using hand gestures that contained moving his drink cup side to side. 

“Until college, of course.” Michael corrected. 

“You know that doesn’t count.” 

Michael shrugged. “True.” he agreed, nodding his head at Gavin. “I’m tired of starting over, though.” 

“I get what you’re saying.” Ray chimed in, finishing his third Mountain Dew. “New classes, new teachers, new marching show. I miss the old shit. Junior year was the best.” 

Gavin nodded. “Agreed! Our AP chemistry class was fucking incredible.” 

Michael laughed. “Oh my God, remember when Ray and Joel had to pretend to be nickel and iron?” 

Ray made a solemn face during the midst of Gavin and Michael’s reminiscent laughter. “Never heard the end of that one.” Ray said with a chuckle. “It doesn’t beat the time that Gavin spilled phosphoric acid on Barbara.” 

“Hey!” Gavin blurted defensively. “It was diluted!” 

The three continued to reminisce until about nine thirty, when they decided that it’d be best to get home. Michael offered to have them over for the night, which they agreed to, and to just ride together to band camp the following morning. 

“A week and a half more of this shit,” Ray grumbled on the way home. “I’m not too particularly happy about spending my final days of summer waking up to stand outside in the heat while you shits work on your marching.” 

“At least you aren’t exerting energy.” Gavin said, looking over his shoulder at Ray in the backseat of Michael’s car. 

Ray leaned back. “True, but I’m still listening to Mr. Carlyle beat the shit out of you guys for marching when we’re trying to work out our parts.” 

“Are you gonna cry about it?” Michael asked sassily. Ray huffed. 

Michael turned into his driveway and shut the car off. All three boys clicked their seatbelts off at just about the same time, and opened their car doors. The night outside was still warm, and the sky above was picturesque. It was a cloudless night, and the galaxy of stars were visible like a blanket over the neighborhood. 

Gavin exhaled a deep breath. “The night’s beautiful,” he said, looking up. “How about we invite some of the crew in the neighborhood over for a cheeky chat?” 

Michael raised his eyebrows, looking at Gavin who was wide-eyed looking up at the starry sky. “The night is pretty, huh?” Michael said, shrugging his shoulders and glancing upwards. “Who all lives in here? I forget. It’s been awhile since I rode the bus.” Michael turned, looking at Ray who was on his phone. “Ray, you live in here. Who else?” 

Ray looked up, clicking his phone off and shoving it in his back pocket. “Geoff, Meg, Lindsay, Miles… and Gus, I think.” he replied, putting effort into trying to remember the neighborhood band kids. 

Gavin pulled out his phone. “I’ll text them. Are your folks okay with having a group of teenagers sitting in your driveway at night?” 

Michael laughed, rubbing his fingers through his hair that was oily with sweat. “They’re fine. They’re just happy that I _have_ friends.” 

After Gavin sent out a group message, it took about ten minutes for them all to arrive. Most of them walked up, except for Gus, who drove his ATV and sounded the night with a loud roar of a motor. 

“What the fuck, Gus?” Michael said, hardly being able to stop laughing. “You drove a goddamn four-wheeler?” 

Gus slid out of the seat of his ATV, adjusting his glasses and grinning widely. “Fuck yeah!” he laughed, walking up to the rest of the group who was sitting on Michael’s driveway with Mountain Dew cans by their feet. “I never get an opportunity to drive that thing.” 

Gavin laughed, clicking open his Mountain Dew as Gus sat down next to him. “Glad you all could make it here tonight.” the Brit said in a jokingly-serious voice.

“Why’d you call us here?” Lindsay asked, her hair wet. “I just gotten out of the shower. I had to get dressed _again_.” 

Michael shrugged. “It was a nice night. Good for talking. At least you _had_ a shower.” 

Lindsay smirked, casting a sideways glance at the trombone player. “At least throw an actual party,” she joked. “I mean, Mountain Dew? Why not whiskey?” 

“Us band kids are lame.” Miles added, taking a sip of his drink. “Plus, Ray would have to leave if we pulled out the alcohol.” 

Ray nodded his head, making the signature “Ray Face” of disapproval. “Underage drinking is a no-no.”

“Oh please,” Geoff said, leaning backwards a bit. “Who here has drank before?” 

The entire group, save for Ray, gave a halfhearted mumble that ended in a fit of laughter. “One day, Ray.” Michael said with a grin. 

“You guys are all going to die of liver cancer.” Ray mumbled, taking a swig of his drink. “In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy my innocent drinking habits.” 

Gavin chuckled, finishing his first Mountain Dew can of the night. He crinkled it up underneath his palm and tossed it aside. Upon realizing the pack of soda was behind him, he made the decision to reach for another without realizing that Meg beside him went to do the same. Gavin stopped when he accidentally brushed her hand with his own. 

“Sorry!” Meg said, pulling back her hand. Gavin was obviously flustered, but hoped the dark of the night hid the blush on his cheeks. 

“You’re fine,” he reassured, grabbing a can for her and then another for himself. “Just didn’t see you there.” 

Meg laughed, looking at Gavin with moonlit eyes. Gavin admired the way the silver light of the stars outlined her face. “Well, we got our cans now, so it’s okay.” she chuckled, opening her can. “Cheers?” 

Gavin smiled, holding his can up and clinking it with Meg’s. “Cheers, to band.” 

“To band!” Meg repeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm leaving for a camp on sunday for a week!! so if i don't update by then (and knowing me, i probably won't) then there won't be an update for another week


	4. Chapter 4

“You look tired.” Michael whispered as he tossed a pencil at Ray’s head which was buried in his arms. It was 7:30 AM on the first day of school, and Michael was sitting in first period with Ray who looked as if he hadn’t even woken up. Most people tried to look decent for the first day of school, but Ray hadn’t even looked like he brushed his hair. As soon as they found their seats, the Hispanic’s head immediately went to the desk. 

“Fuck off,” Ray mumbled, not moving as the pencil hit his neck and fell to the table. 

Michael grinned, reaching over across the isle to take the pencil back from Ray’s desk. He was pretty satisfied with his first period. It was English class, with a teacher who was new to the school, with a large majority of familiar people. He chose a seat with Ray to his right and Miles to his left so he could have a second choice for whenever Ray would fall asleep. 

Michael noted that the teacher was very skinny. He seemed like the type to sit back and joke around with his class. He had dark ginger hair and dark stubble, and wore a checkered button-up shirt with a tie. He looked very dapper, and young, and Michael could predict that English would be a breeze just by the way the teacher looked.

“What’s up, Miles?” Michael asked as he slid to the left, giving up on trying to talk to Ray who was clearly not in the mood. Miles on the other hand, was talking to Arryn in front of him, who was a part of the color guard. Michael didn’t know her as well, but he knew Miles had been trying to pull her for months. 

Miles looked over at Michael as Arryn turned around. “Hey, man!” he said enthusiastically. His hair was gelled and he was wearing a nice, ironed, button-up shirt. Michael knew the “classy Miles” look would end in a few weeks when he ran out of nice shirts. 

Miles gave Michael a fist bump before adjusting his hair. “Happy to be back?” he asked, with the same cheeky smile he had when he entered the room. 

Michael shrugged. “Happier than others,” he answered with a smirk, flashing a glance back at Ray who’s head was covered in a hood. “What about you?” 

“Extremely,” Miles answered. Michael always knew Miles to be a very extravagant person, in everything he did, whether it was band or school. “Also super psyched to have Arryn in this class.” 

Michael giggled. “Good luck,” he said as Miles tapped her shoulder to return to their conversation. Michael knew with Arryn there, talking to Miles during free time wouldn’t have the best luck. He decided to keep hope that Ray would be awake for at least half the year. 

Halfway into the “get to know each other” routine of the first day, Ray poked his head up. His glasses were crooked and his hair was ruffled, but Michael was glad that he was awake despite the fact he missed roll call. Michael didn’t blame him, though. The first day was always the longest of the year. 

“Tell us three goals, Michael Jones.” the teacher had said, catching Michael off guard as he thought about the future. He hadn’t really been listening to his classmates’ ‘goals’, and knew they weren’t going to be listening to his either. He didn’t even have any ‘goals’. Wasn’t finishing the school year enough? 

Michael stood up, looking around his class at all the eyes glued to him. He met eye contact with Adam Ellis at the corner of the room before quickly looking to his teacher, Mr. Wright. 

“Goals for what exactly?” Michael said with a guilty grin. 

“The school year.” Mr. Wright answered with amusement in his eyes. “Sometime today, please?” 

Michael laughed nervously. He knew he didn’t have any goals. He did things when they came to him, and rarely thought ahead. Trying his best to come up with things, Michael cleared his throat. 

“To finish marching band, get laid, and graduate.” Michael said with a grin as the class erupted with laughter. He didn’t know what exactly pulled him to say the middle part, but he knew he had to have some comedic relief at that early in the morning. He quickly looked up at Mr. Wright, and thankfully, saw that he was amused. 

“Sit down, Michael,” Mr. Wright said through his laughter. Michael smiled proudly as he sat, quickly looking around the class as they managed to quiet down. Satisfied with his first impression, Michael sat and didn’t catch any of what the other students’ goals were.

* * *

“It’s the first day and I managed to fall asleep during third period,” Gavin confessed as he sat down for lunch. His hair was frayed, and the entire lunch table could see that he had indeed fallen asleep. The look was complete with red marks from his arms streaked across his face. 

“Ray slept through most of first period,” Michael said through a mouthful of bread, glancing over at Ray beside him who was eating green beans in silence. 

“You expect me to be fully awake during first period on the first day of school? Bitch please.” Ray defended, getting Gavin to laugh and causing attention from the rest of the lunch table. 

Gavin was relieved that most of his friends had the same lunch period with him. It had been like this for most of high school already. He even sat at the same lunch table with them every year. They were apart of his school routine. 

“How’s everyone’s first day so far?” Griffon asked, taking out a chip bag and an apple from her book bag. She had worn a floral patterned, vintage dress with her under shaven, blonde hair curled to the side. Her look was complete with several hoops and studs in her ears, and septum piercing in her nose. 

“Great,” Barbara answered with a mouthful of spaghetti. 

Meg shrugged, taking out a knife to cut her pasta into smaller bites. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “My second period is kind of a drag, though.” 

Ryan widened his eyes in surprise. “I’m in your second. Am I not good enough for you?” he said with a smirk. 

Meg giggled, taking a bite of spaghetti after being satisfied with her cutting job. “Oh shut up, Ryan. You’re great.” 

Gavin exchanged glances with Michael. “Our second period is fucking chaotic.” he said with a chuckle. He knew a majority of the class, and the teacher was one of those small-voiced, white women who didn’t know how to control a class. “It’s got me, Michael, Kerry, Kyle, Burnie, Geoff, and Griffon. Fucking incredible.” 

Michael nodded in agreement, opening a can of Red Bull he had stashed in his book bag. “Our teacher can’t even teach. We’re gonna learn absolutely nothing. It’s gonna be great.” 

Caiti approached the table with Jack by her side. She had managed to curl her long hair, and was wearing a pretty teal dress complete with a belt and matching ankle boots. Caiti had always been known to wear nice clothes for a majority of the year, and even looked cute when bumming out. She had won the 8th grade superlative for best dressed, and was striving for it again for senior year. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” she said with a bright smile, sitting down beside Meg. “Good to see everybody!” 

The table gave a muffled response, numb with soreness from band practice. “I’d much rather be at home,” Gus mumbled through a disgusted face. “Fuck school.” 

“Amen!” Lindsay agreed, holding up her water bottle for a toast among the lunch table. 

The teens raised their beverages with a smirk, playfully toasting them with Lindsay’s bottle. “You shits better be memorizing your fucking music,” Geoff gritted with a jokingly tired expression. “I’m tired of it being September with the music not being memorized.” 

Ray took a swig of milk, making an ‘ahh’ sound as he set it back down. “Geoff please,” he said quickly. “What else am I supposed to do?” 

Michael giggled, gently shoving Ray enough for him to almost tilt out of his seat. “Shut the fuck up,” he chuckled. “Some of us have more complicated matters.” 

Gavin smiled, taking another bite of his bread roll and casting a sideways glance at Meg. Her hair was in loose curls, and was wearing winged eyeliner which she only wore for special occasions. She was wearing a navy blue dress with lace by the neck, and a dark brown belt. She had matching shoes, that Gavin had remembered her buying when they were at the mall over the summer, and showed off her ankle tattoo of a crescent moon that she got when she turned 17.

Gavin managed to clear his throat and pick up her attention from looking at her freshly painted blue nails. “You look nice today, Meg,” he said with a genuine smile. 

Meg met his glance, instantly beaming from the compliment. “Thanks!” she said grinning, her silver bracelets clanking as she set her hands on her lap. “It is the last-first-day after all.” 

Gavin nodded, looking back across the table at Michael who was suggestively raising an eyebrow at him. “What?” Gavin mouthed, quickly looking to the side again to make sure Meg still wasn’t looking over. 

Michael nodded his head with a smirk painted on his face. Ray leaned over in front of Michael, holding up his hands to do the sex hand gesture. Gavin shot a glare at his two best friends, sending them into a fit of quiet laughter.

* * *

“Wanna come over today?” Michael suggested to Gavin and Ray once outside the school in the crowd of afternoon dismissal. The rest of the day had been pretty generic. Michael and most of his best band friends were in seventh period band, and was relieved that he was in seventh instead of second. There were two band periods due to the growing size of the band. Seventh period, which was the last period of the day, was always the best due to the fact that they got priority seating whenever there was mass rehearsal. 

“I’m free,” Ray said with a shrug, checking his phone at the time. “Gavin is too.” 

Gavin groaned at Ray’s pun. “Fuck you,” he said before turning back to Michael. “Yeah, I’m good to come over. Can I just ride home with you?”

Michael nodded, beginning to walk over to the parking lot where his car was parked. “Sounds cool. You too Ray?” 

“Might as well,” Ray decided, almost bumping into a smaller than average girl who was running towards the busses. 

“We can work on music. Sound good?” Michael said, holding up his trombone case that was being carried in his grip. 

“Sounds great,” Gavin said, hitting Michael lightly with his clarinet case.

The car ride consisted of loud music, two close calls, and Michael brake-checking every two minutes. Ray collided with the seat in front of him numerous times, and Gavin spent his time in the passenger seat making faces at passing cars. The ride from the school to Michael’s home was about ten minutes, and Ray couldn’t be happier than to be out of the small backseat space. He told Michael he was going to run down the street to his house to grab his mallets and bells, and would join them for music practice in a bit. 

Michael led Gavin to his bedroom, throwing their book bags on the floor and setting their instrument cases on the bed. Michael removed his shoes and tossed them in his closet, and Gavin set his neatly near his book bag. 

“Can’t believe summer’s over,” Michael breathed after a few moments, glancing at Gavin who was scrolling down his Twitter feed. 

Gavin shrugged, locking his phone and setting it on the mattress beside him. “Our summer technically ended at the beginning of August,” he sighed.

“True,” Michael agreed with a slump of his shoulders. “We don’t have to worry about that next summer.” 

Gavin met his glance, his eyebrows furrowed in a sudden look of uneasiness. “We’ll be going into _college_ , Michael.” he stated. “I don’t know what to feel about that. All my life I’ve known to go to school and be told what to do. I don’t know what it’s like to be independent… I can’t even drive!” 

Michael smirked, placing his hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “We’ll survive,” he murmured. “We just gotta go with the flow. We’re going to the same college, aren’t we? I’ll be there for you, Gav.” 

Gavin gave a half smile as Michael patted his shoulder. “Only if we both get accepted,” he said lowly. “But thanks, Michael. You’re the bestest friend I could ever ask for.” 

Ray returned to Michael’s house about five minutes after, sweat glistening on his forehead from the dry Texas heat outside. He set his equipment on the bed and sat on the floor, catching his breath. “Fucking hot as Hell outside.” he exclaimed. 

“Ridiculous,” Michael said with disgust. “And we gotta fucking march in it.” 

Gavin bit his lip. “Remember that time I fainted sophomore year?”

Ray and Michael giggled with nostalgia. “That was pretty funny,” Ray added, taking out his bells and mallets from their bag. “We were at attention and I just hear Lindsay scream. I almost shit myself.” 

Michael laughed, unzipping his trombone bag and connecting the slide to his horn. “Yeah, I heard her from across the field, then I just saw Gav go down. Good thing he did though, my arm was about to fall off.” 

“You guys are assholes,” Gavin mumbled with a smile. He inserted a reed into his mouth to get it ready, and started to piece together his clarinet. 

After all three boys had their instruments ready to go, Gavin played a tuning note, and they went to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back!! sorry for the delay!!


	5. Chapter 5

September came quickly, and with it, the thought of having the season’s first competition on the last Saturday of the month. Mr. Carlyle was frantic with trying to perfect both the movements and music, and the band itself was beginning to crack under the pressure. Section leaders were trying their absolute best to whip their section into shape, and more sectionals were being held throughout the week. 

On Monday, September 8th, the woodwinds held their first sectional of the season. Clarinets and flutes worked with each other in the choir room, while the saxophones occupied the band room. Mr. Carlyle popped into both rooms every once and awhile, and was pleased with what he was hearing. 

“Again,” Jack ordered after he watched his section march a rotating circle from the first song. He started clapping up a beat with his hands, counting off, and sending his section back into movement. 

The clarinets were pretty good with their music, much to Lindsay and Gavin’s surprise. The section was almost half sophomores, who didn’t have but a year experience. Lindsay was sure to praise her section frequently to keep their esteem high. Arryn and Barbara, on the other hand, spent most of the sectional cracking down on the flutes. 

“Have you guys even been practicing?” Arryn shouted, causing a majority of the new marchers to jump in their seats. “I’ve told you that E’s are natural ever since band camp!” 

Barbara sat on a stool, her flute crossed over her legs as she watched Arryn tell the flutes to pay attention for the 100th time. Gavin sat beside her, and the clarinets tried not to stare at the cowering flutes. 

“Okay,” Gavin piped up after a few moments of silence when Arryn had stopped her lecture. He looked around, and could cut the tension in the air with a knife. “Measure twenty three?” 

Sectionals ended at 4:30, and the section leaders waited until their section members went home before all meeting up in the band room to talk. They all pulled up chairs by the lockers, and were eager to share their opinions on their section’s performance that afternoon. 

“I’ve got some pretty good marchers,” Jack boasted, taking a swig of a water he had bought in the vending machine before sectionals. 

Barbara rolled her eyes. “Fucking brag about it,” she said with a grin. “Our flutes didn’t know that a C sharp was a D flat.” 

Lindsay snickered. “It’ll get better,” she reassured. Arryn and Barbara exchanged glances, then broke in a laugh.

* * *

Tuesday rolled in faster than most of the band members anticipated. Tuesdays, along with Thursdays, meant three hour after school rehearsals, which left everyone with sweat and stress strewn clearly on their faces. This particular Tuesday was bright, sunny, and 85 degrees. 

Michael groaned as he lugged his trombone out of it’s case within the low-wind room. “Fuck rehearsals,” he mumbled, looking up at Gus who was busy trying to bring his tuba out of it’s case for the second time that day. “I just want to go home.” 

“Tell me about it,” added Joel Heyman, a senior baritone player. “It’s too hot for this shit.” 

Michael looked around at all the freshmen who occupied the low-wind room, looking up at the upperclassmen with rounded, shocked eyes from their obscenities. A few had transferred from a Christian private-school, which Michael found funny. He was known to curse, even when talking to his section, and held no regrets. It made them laugh, and it made a lot of them listen more attentively. 

“What do you mean you don’t have any reeds?” Lindsay said, quite loudly, just outside the low-wind room. Michael could hear her from inside. He understood that whenever you upset Lindsay, she wouldn’t let it go so lightly. 

“I chipped it, like, five minutes ago.” the fellow clarinetist defended as Lindsay interrogated her. She was a sophomore, but had transferred from another band. 

Lindsay shrugged her shoulders, looking quite mortified. “Don’t you carry an extra one?” 

“I lost it.” 

Lindsay sighed, not breaking eye contact with her section member. She cursed her over and over again in her head, and desperately wanted to publicly embarrass her with the help of Mr. Carlyle. “If you want a reed, you’re gonna have to run me two laps.” 

“What if I don’t want to run?” the sophomore said hotly. 

Lindsay wanted to slap her across the face, but didn’t want to have her section lose all the respect they had for her. “Then you don’t have a reed, and you’ll have to take that up with Carlyle. You want to do that?” 

The sophomore shook her head, and Lindsay turned to her clarinet case which was planted on a chair behind her. She dug out a reed, and plopped it on her fellow section member’s hand. “It’ll be out of tune because it’s new.” she advised, as the clarinetist began to walk out the door of the band room en route to the practice field. “And by the way, make it three.” 

Michael swerved out of the low-wind room, casting Lindsay a glance as he passed by her. “Damn,” he said, stopping himself beside her and smirking. “Fierce.” 

Lindsay rolled her eyes as she picked up her clarinet from the seat behind her. “Shut up,” she teased, popping a reed in her mouth and picking up her water bottle in the process. “Gavin doesn’t punish them, so someone has to.” 

Michael snickered. For all the years he had known Gavin, never had he yelled or scolded someone else. It just wasn’t his personality. Michael decided that Gavin was more of a comedic relief than a section leader. 

“I’m going to the field. You coming?” Lindsay offered. 

Michael nodded, trombone and water bottle in hand. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

Gavin watched them leave, smiling to himself and shooting a sideways glance at Meg, who was standing next to him by the instrument lockers. “They’re gonna be together by the end of the season,” he betted, turning his head and meeting Meg’s gaze. 

“I can see it,” she agreed. Meg had worn an old band shirt and hot pink shorts to practice, and her red hair was tied up in one of those hipster ‘messy-buns’. Gavin thought she looked cute, but she did in about everything she wore. He smiled. 

“We should probably get down to the field.” Meg suggested after a few moments of soundless eye contact. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Gavin huffed, turning behind him to open up his instrument locker and take out his clarinet. Sticking a reed in his mouth, he followed Meg out the door, along with a majority of the other band kids as the time inched closer to 3:00. 

“Opening set,” Mr. Carlyle said through the megaphone he brought to band practices to that all the members could hear him clearly. “Quick.” 

Ryan Haywood shuffled towards his position, which was in a line at the front of the field. He was pleased to see that all his trumpets were present, and looking eager to start the day’s practice. He watched them form the line, and was impressed at how well his section kept the line. He gave a thumbs up, visible from down the line, and cast his glance back at Mr. Carlyle for further instruction.

“Band!” Mr. Carlyle shouted to gain everyone’s attention. You could hear the command from a mile away, and it immediately told everyone to shut up and listen, or else. The newbies learned quickly about Mr. Carlyle’s quick temper. 

“I want you to run the opener,” the band director stated, scanning the practice field at the band. “Play the music. Blow through the horn, not into it. Perform it like you would a competition.” He watched as the band simultaneously nodded. “Now go to parade rest.” 

Ryan quickly got into the position of parade rest: legs shoulder-length apart, head down, and left hand in a fist behind the back. Ryan glanced upwards as Geoff and Burnie took their stance on the drum major podiums, and gave each other a nod before commanding the band. 

“Band, ’ten hut!” Burnie shouted, causing the band to move as one group to the attention position, emitting a “huah!” sound from every member. Pleased with the way the band responded, Burnie flashed Geoff a satisfied smirk. 

“Band, horns up!” Geoff shouted in response. The band picked their horns up like clockwork. The flutes were snappy, and the trumpets were casting a bronze aura in the afternoon sunlight. 

Geoff and Burnie practiced a bit with the tempo, before counting off, and sending the band into the opener. 

“One… two… one, two, ready, play!” Burnie conducted. As scripted, the band marched into motion. The trumpets played their perky fanfare as they preformed a left slide, and the clarinets joined with the flutes to play a pretty trill. Mr. Carlyle nodded his head with satisfaction. 

Just as quickly as it started, it was over, and Ryan felt the sweat dripping down the sides of his head. He quickly went to horns down as soon as the show ended, like he was told, and stayed at attention until Mr. Carlyle raised his voice to talk. 

“Not bad,” he complemented, rubbing his chin and looking at his drill book. “Brass was getting a little weak towards the end. That won’t happen again, right?” 

“No, sir!” Michael shouted obnoxiously loud, causing a giggle from a few of the low-wind members. Mr. Carlyle smirked humorously at Michael’s reply. 

“Guard, you’re dropping your flags too much,” Miss Demi shouted from the sidelines. “If I see another flag hit the ground, you all owe me a lap.” 

Meg cast a sideways glance at Griffon, who pursed her lips in disapproval. She looked exhausted, and Meg knew it was because her workplace made her work overtime the day before. Griffon didn’t like to complain, though.

Practice flew by pretty quickly, and the band members were promptly released at 6:00. Michael quickly met up with Gavin and Ray after practice, and gathered his water bottle, before starting the long walk back to the school. He and Gavin both were sweating, and teased Ray because of his easy job as pit percussion. 

“It’s harder than it looks!” Ray defended, taking a drink of leftover water. 

“Oh yeah, I’m sure hitting mallets is real hard work.” Michael replied with a smug laugh. Ray rolled his eyes with a snicker, knowing that he does have the easier job on the marching field. 

“We should do something,” Gavin suggested upon getting back to the band room and stowing his instrument in his locker. “Wanna go bowling?” 

Michael furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Bowling?” he repeated, meeting Gavin’s glance as he collected his book bag. “Seriously?” 

“Yeah, why not?” Gavin responded. “We can take the gang. You want to?”

Michael shrugged. “That sounds fun, actually. Yeah, I’ll collect people.” 

Gavin laughed, watching Michael wander off to talk to his friends and invite them to the spur-of-the-moment bowling trip. He watched Meg talk to her friends, and part of him wanted to stop her from leaving to invite her. He stopped himself when he saw her leave with other guard members, and immediately lost interest in going out at all. His mind changed again when he saw Michael return with a group of familiar friends. 

Michael had collected Ray, Geoff, Lindsay, Barbara, Miles, and Arryn, and Gavin was surprised at how quickly he had come up with all these people. “We ready?” Gavin asked upon seeing who all was coming to the bowling alley. 

“Yep,” Michael agreed, beginning to walk towards the exit of the band room. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay. i started band camp and im busy


End file.
